


mercy.

by lordvoldyfarts



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldyfarts/pseuds/lordvoldyfarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla is drunk and she accidentally breaks into Laura's apartment. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mercy.

Carmilla is pretty sure the world is spinning

Well, scientifically, she’s _positive_ the world is spinning because otherwise the world would undeniably be ending but. Not the point.

Maybe it’s just the sky that’s spinning. Or the stars. Or just this lamppost she can’t seem to let go of.

She’d stumbled out of the club half an hour ago and she’d _tried_ to make it back to her own apartment, really she did, but these shoes were really not meant for walking and her brain was having difficulty communicating with her feet.

Somehow, god only knows how, it occurred to her that one of the girls she’d been seeing lived around here. Maybe it was because she recognized that weird homeless guy on the corner who always offered her a churro.

She knows she lives in a brick building and this one looks a hell of a lot like the one she’s been coming in and out of for the past month (most of the time off of the fire escape and it’s a good thing she’s only ever seen it in the dark – it makes the recognition process _so_ much easier). She pulls her phone out of her pocket. Well, she tries to. It tumbles to the ground, into a pile of snow. A slew of nearly unintelligible curse words fall from her mouth and she reaches into the snow bank to pick it up. She pokes at the screen. Nothing. She tries again. Still nothing. She sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry at it. “Useless, pieces of technology.” She murmurs to herself. She tucks her phone back into her pocket, still swearing at it, and she looks up at the building. The door is all the way on the other side of the building and she still can’t manage to let go of this lamppost so she knows getting over there is an impossibility. Her mouth is starting to feel cottony and her eyelids are closing and if she doesn’t get into an apartment soon, she’s liable to fall asleep in this snowbank. Or next to Churro Charlie.

(Which, right now, doesn’t sound altogether that unappealing).

She sees the fire escape and her eyes light up.

_Perfect._

She knows….uh…..the girl (whose name she thinks might be Elsie but mostly she just calls her blondie. Or Sandy. She reminds her an awful lot of that overeager pup from that movie about the little ginger girl) lives on the fourth floor. She lets go of the lamppost and nearly ends up in the snowbank anyway. She steadies herself, throwing her hands out horizontally. When she’s certain that she’s able to move again without falling over immediately, she continues forward. The dumpster is right underneath the bottom of the fire escape (which is lucky, because she _cannot_ jump higher than a foot at a time and she is certainly not in the right state to attempt to try). She barely makes it up onto the steps, but mercifully she doesn’t fall.

Her heel nearly gets stuck in one of the grooves of the steps and she almost falls into a window of what looks like a cat sanctuary, judging by the cat clock on the wall and the cat fabric that covers the couches. And the three cats sitting in the window, staring at her with murder in their eyes. She bares her teeth and hisses, laughing to herself when one of them jumps.

It takes her another solid five minutes to make it up to the fourth landing. She climbs onto the ledge of the window, kneeling on it. She fumbles with the bottom of the window and thanks the sheer naiveté of this generation for never learning that they really ought to lock their windows.

Carmilla ends up on the floor of the apartment, a few more _very_ creative curse words coming from her mouth. She takes her shoes off and throws them over by the couch (which, she could have sworn was blue…not this weird orange color). She lets out a moan of relief, flexing her feet out in front of her. She closes her eyes, just for a moment, to enjoy the sensation of free feet.

And then she feels it.

Whiskers. Against her feet. She jumps. Her nose wrinkles at the sight of the tiny black cat who is staring curiously up at her. She sneers. “Who the fuck are you?” She says. It meows. Carmilla shakes her foot at it. “Get away.” She hisses. It doesn’t. She sucks in a large breath and grabs the corner of the table (and seriously did this girl redecorate her whole apartment in the week it’s been since she’s seen her?) to pull herself up. “When the fuck did she get a cat?” She says to herself. Since her climb up the fire escape, she’s managed to wake herself up a bit. And she figures….while she’s here….

The door to her bedroom is shut but, thankfully, not locked. She turns the knob of the door and puts her most seductive smirk on. The girls back is to her and she decides her hands are a better alarm clock than her words. She slides a hand down the length of her back and she’s about to lean down to kiss the exposed skin of her neck when the girl turns around and her eyes flutter open.

Uh oh.

The tiny brunette in the bed is most _certainly_ not Sandy (though she looks like a puppy in her own right – but more like an annoying yippy one. Like that Chihuahua from that movie about the ditz who goes to Harvard). The girl has shot up in bed and Carmilla stumbles backwards. She grabs something from off of the nightstand and then she’s on her feet. Carmilla only says, “You’re not Elsie.”

The girl is pointing a spatula at her and if she didn’t have total crazy eyes, Carmilla might even laugh.

“Who the hell are you and why are you in my apartment?” The girl says and she shakes the spatula at her again. Carmilla can’t help herself now – she laughs. Hysterically. The girls expressions shifts from enraged to confused and then back to blind range.

“Answer me! I have a spatula and I am _not_ afraid to use it.” Carmilla raises an eyebrow (or she tries to, it mostly ends up looking like she’s got something in her eye and she’s trying to blink it out – and failing).  Her vision is starting to blur and wow, did she enter some kind of parallel universe where cloning exists because there’s about four different versions of this girl with the spatula in front of her right now.

“Watch too many Bond movies, did you munchkin?” She says and really, she tries to sound imposing but her words are slurred and it sounds an awful like she’s just called this girl a moose. She lowers the spatula then and rolls her eyes.

“You are completely trashed, aren’t you?” She asks and Carmilla giggles. She nods and even raises her hand to give the girl a weak salute.

“Ding, ding, ding! You win. Pass go. Collect $300.” She laughs out and it elicits another eye roll from the girl.

“It’s $200.” She mumbles. She throws the spatula behind her and says, “Turn around. You look like you’re about to vomit and I just vacuumed. I’d rather you do it the kitchen.” Carmilla giggles.

“Aye, aye captain!” She responds and stumbles her way out of the bedroom. She manages to make it over to the couch. She reclines against it, huffing. “It is so warm in here. Do you enjoy living in a place that’s the exact temperature of pits of hell?” She says and she’s pulled her shirt off before the girl has a change to answer her.

Carmilla’s eyes are closed when she hears an exclamation of “Oh my god!” They flick open and she sees the girl attempting to cover her eyes with a clear glass of water. Carmilla laughs, her eyes shutting again.

“What? Never seen a half-naked girl before?” She asks and it’s the girls turn to huff.

“Generally, they tell me their names before they take their clothes off.” She responds and Carmilla opens one of her eyes to look at the girl, who’s smirking at her. “And usually, they’re not random drunks that stumble in through my window.” She offers her the glass of water and Carmilla takes it, chugging it down quickly. She sticks the empty cup between her legs and lets her arm fall limply to her side. “So, mind telling me who you are? Because I still have half a mind to call the police but it’s crime season over on the east side so I don’t know how their reaction time would be and I’d really rather just know that you’re not some kind of murderer.” She rambles and Carmilla raises a hand to shush her.

“’m Carmilla. Philosophy student at Silas so the only thing I’ll kill you with is pretention.” She jokes and it does manage to get a laugh out of the girl, who is sitting on the edge of the chair diagonal from her. “You wanna tell me whose apartment I stumbled into?” She asks.

“I’m Laura.” The girl says and Carmilla rolls her head over to look at her. Now that she’s not brandishing a kitchen tool as a weapon, she actually looks kind of….sweet. Cute in a baked good kind of way. She looks like a muffin. Or a cupcake.

“What’s the address of this place?” Carmilla asks.

“348 Queen.” She says and it dawns on Carmilla that Elsie actually lives in the building next door.

“Sorry about almost inappropriately touching you. And breaking into your apartment. But mostly the touching thing.” Carmilla mumbles and sleep is really starting to sound like a _great_ idea.

“Were you uh, looking for a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Laura’s voice is hesitant and Carmilla laughs just a little.

“Nah. I don’t do girlfriends. Just a friend.” And Carmilla opens her eyes one more time to look at Laura. She smiles. “You’re cute.” She says bluntly and Laura looks down at her lap, blushing.

“You’re drunk.” Laura stands. “My Dad would kill me for this,” She starts and she’s talking mostly to herself, “But you can stay on the couch for the night. I doubt you’re in any state to take yourself home and I don’t want your death on my conscience.” Carmilla gives her a halfhearted thumbs up and falls down onto the couch. She’s already half asleep when she feels a blanket being draped over her and a soft, “Goodnight.” Being said over her head.

-

She wakes up with the sun.

It’s shining right in her fucking eye and holy _shit_ her head is killing her. And she’s freezing. She looks down. Why the fuck doesn’t she have a shirt on? Groaning, she sits up. She runs a hand through her hair and tries to take in her surroundings. She recognizes nothing. There’s a small black cat sleeping at the edge of her feet and her lip pulls up into a sneer. She pokes it with her toe. It opens one eye and Carmilla swears it’s raising an eyebrow at her. “Can you tell me where the hell I am?” The cats only response is to shut its eye again. “Didn’t think so.” She mumbles. She hears a laugh from her left.

“Good morning.” The voice, she vaguely thinks, sounds like sunshine.

She hates it.

Carmilla raises an eyebrow at the girl who is bringing her a glass of water and a dry piece of toast. It’s only once she sees the smirk that bits and pieces of last night start to come back to her. The pole. The fire escape. The stupid cat. Spatula. She groans. “ _Fuck_. I broke into your apartment last night, didn’t I?” She asks. The girl (Laura, she’s pretty sure) nods with an amused smile on her face.

“Yep. And then tried to slip into bed with me without even getting my name.” She jokes and Carmilla closes her eyes, letting out a long breath.

“Seems I forgot my manners. Usually I do a fair bit of stalking before I attempt breaking and entering.” She deadpans and she sees panic cross Laura’s face that’s quickly replaced by a soft smile. She hands off the water and the plate and sits on the chair, in the same position she had been last night.

“How do you feel? You were pretty wasted last night. I wasn’t sure you were even going to wake up to see the light of day.” Carmilla hmphs. “That’s why I opened the curtains. Figured a little sunshine might do you good.” Carmilla glares now and she thinks that maybe this girl is trying to dish out some kind of payback. She glances down at the toast and water.

“You didn’t slip arsenic into this, did you?” She asks warily. Laura laughs.

“No. I think forcing you to wake up with the sunrise was karma enough.” And reluctantly, Carmilla smiles.

-

She’s getting ready to leave the apartment, a little bit reluctantly because hey, this girl is kind of cute and that annoying little cat actually seems to like her. Laura’s made sure she has cab fare and even managed to fix her phone (which she only vaguely remembers dropping into the snowbank). Carmilla takes a few extra minutes to tie her shoes.

She’s loitering in the doorway and Laura has an amused smile on her face. The door is open and Carmilla is leaning against the frame. “So, thanks. For not calling the cops on me last night. It was…very considerate of you.” She says and Laura smiles. She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “So. I’m going to leave now. I’ll try not to sneak into your apartment next time I get trashed.” She exchanges one last smile with Laura and she turns out of the door. Carmilla is halfway down the hall when Laura leans out of the door and says,

“Hey, Carm!” Carmilla turns around, the nickname doing something weird to her stomach. “I put my number in your phone so if you ever do want to sneak into my apartment again, you can call first. Or, if you ever, I don’t know, want to get coffee sometime. You can call me. Or text me. If you want.” Carmilla grins.

“Okay.” Is all she says and she turns around again.

She’s barely two feet out of the door of the apartment building when she’s clicking through her contacts and clicking on the name ‘Laura Hollis’.


End file.
